


Say Yes

by PhenixFleur



Series: Predation [1]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Alternate Universe - Monster Falls, Blood, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Gen, Hunter AU, Hunter Bill being a crazy fuck, I'd Say I'm Sorry but I'm not, Kidnapping, Knifeplay, Sadism, Torture, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-16
Updated: 2015-09-16
Packaged: 2018-04-21 03:49:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4813850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhenixFleur/pseuds/PhenixFleur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dipper's run-in with a hunter out in the woods takes a darker turn than he could've imagined. (Grimdark variant of Should've Run Faster.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Say Yes

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not even apologizing for this. Hunter Bill AU, somewhat older Deerper, blood, semi-knifeplay, Bill is a sadistic fuck. I'm posting these under Luna Moth for a reason. :S

“A little too tight?”

Dipper inhaled sharply; his teeth dug into his split lip once more, but the twinge of pain paled in comparison to the stiffness in his arms, still bound behind his back with a coil of thick rope, the sole of the hunter’s boot digging into his injured side, or the chain attached to the leather collar (he tried to ignore the unwanted knowledge of what  _kind_  of leather it was) now wrapped tightly around his neck, rendering breathing correctly a damn near impossible task. He stared up at his captor from where he lay sprawled on the ground, hoping the discomfort in his eyes would elicit even the slightest bit of mercy.

The sharp tug on the chain said otherwise.

“Sorry, kid.” With the hand not engaged in choking him to death, the hunter pointed at his souvenir from Dipper’s last stand before being dragged to the ground and incapacitated: a rapidly darkening bruise on the side of his neck. His hooves packed a punch, but they were no match for a hunting rifle in the gut, or the keen edge of a knife pressed against his throat. “Y'see, this hurt. Don’t get me wrong, I can appreciate pain just as much as the next guy, but…”

Dipper’s eyes widened at the reappearance of the knife (it was more of a cleaver, really), cringing at the sensation of the flat of the blade sliding over one of his ankles. “If you ever hit me again, I’ll cut them off. Do you understand me?”

He might have mistaken the fingertips tracing the incline of his jaw for tenderness had he not been privy to the sadistic  _glee_  in the hunter’s eyes. “Say yes.”

Dipper gaped at him, tongue stilled by terror for a few seconds. “Y…y…”

“Yes?” The blade tilting just enough for him to feel that keen edge against his skin once more.

“Yes,” Dipper managed to choke out, vision blurred by the unshed tears he’d struggled to hold in for the past half hour. “I’m sorry, I just-”

_CRACK._

The backhand cut his plea short, leaving his cheek stinging. “Did I ask for anything _other_  than ‘yes’, kid?” Dipper shook his head, no. “Then that’s what you say. Got it? Say yes.”

“Yes,” Dipper whispered, almost reverently.

“Good boy.” The heel digging into the shallow gash shifted, but he only had a few seconds to enjoy the reprieve before he found himself being dragged over to a nearby tree, back slamming into the scratchy bark. The young cervitaur remained perfectly still while the hunter skillfully bound him to the trunk, looping the chain around the back and using it to affix his wrists above his head. He averted his gaze as the man took a step back to admire his handiwork with a low whistle of appreciation. “You really are stunning, kid. You were pretty cute a few years back but this…” Dipper glanced up just in time to see the hunter lick his lips. “This was worth waiting for.”

Dipper hastily averted his gaze, resisting the urge to vomit. Something about the appraising look in the hunter’s eyes twisted his stomach into a knot. The urge to attempt to talk him out of whatever he planned to do with (or to) him lingered, but so did the dull ache in his cheek.

The hunter circled him, lustful eyes roaming over his body; he paused before the cervitaur, dropping to one knee and pinching Dipper’s flank between a gloved finger and thumb. “If I didn’t want you for myself, I’d skin you alive right here while you begged me to stop.” The knife (cleaver, Dipper was now goddamn sure that was a meat cleaver), prodded his underbelly, tickling the sensitive skin beneath his fur. “Wouldn’t that be fun? Just one long slice from here,” the blade moved to press against his heavily bound throat, tracing a perfectly straight line through his fur from his jugular to a more sensitive area that he wished wasn’t on full display for this asshole. “To here. Then again…there  _is_  a lot of material here. I _could_   slice off just a bit..”

“…don’t.” Fear won out over logic, and Dipper braced himself for another blow. To his surprise it wasn’t forthcoming, replaced instead by cool fingertips against his sore cheek.

“Why not? I’ll be gentle. Nice and slow so you can  _feel_  it.” The man punctuated his words by increasing the pressure against his underbelly, just enough to lightly part the soft flesh beneath the blade, staining the cream-colored fur of his undercarriage pink. Dipper hissed, wincing; it stung something fierce, and he instinctively moved to cover the wound with his hands - swiftly reminded that that was out of the question.

“Don’t worry.” To his relief the hunter withdrew the knife. “I won’t cut you open just yet. I want you in tact for later. Mostly.”

His ears nestled in his hair, heart slamming against his ribcage loudly enough to be heard over the sound of what was likely hyperventilation; despite being tied to a fucking tree Dipper’s instincts to  _run_  were now beginning to overwhelm him, alongside the sense of self-preservation that was neither fully deer nor human. He strained against his bonds, lightheaded with mounting terror that thankfully distracted him from realizing just how much his captor seemed to be enjoying his distress. The hand on his cheek trailed the incline of his jaw, moving to rest against his lips before forcing a finger between them. He let out a muffled cry of revulsion, gagging at the bitter tang of his own blood. “Mmhm!”

  
The hunter’s eyes lit up at the sound. “You’re so cute when you’re scared shitless, kid. Make that noise again.”

Dipper shook his head, attempting to dislodge the fingers in his mouth and  crying out again as a sharp fingernail (it felt all too much like a claw, and he tasted blood once more except this was fresh and it was his) scraped over his tongue, causing tears to well up in his eyes. He forced himself to make eye contact with the hunter again. He wished he hadn’t.

A light flush colored the man’s face, sharp, sharp teeth on display. His eyes glowed, pinpricks of crimson burning from within. “Oh, kid…I can’t hold back anymore.”

Dipper wrenched at the chain binding him to the tree. “No, no, no-”

The last 'no’ came out as a wail; the knife was back, carving a shallow  gash in his shoulder. There was no time to recover or register the new site of discomfort before the appearance of another one, along his cheekbone, across the opposite shoulder, a series of lines along his forearms, a particularly deep laceration along his flank,  _occasionally_  the sensation of a warm tongue tracing the length of one of his wounds. He could hear himself begging, shame three sheets to the wind; there was no point to pride or dignity when being systematically sliced open. “Please stop. It  _hurts_.”

“I know!” The hunter’s laugh rang out from somewhere to his side. “That’s the point! Get it?” The tip of the knife dug into his chest, one perfectly straight line followed by another in a painfully intricate design that Dipper dimly registered as a triangle. Through the haze of tears he could see the hunter’s face looming before his, leering at him. The tapered canines and red eyes lent a demonic quality to the man’s countenance, and the words he spoke next did little to lessen the effect. 

“I’m gonna mark you up, kid.” Another triangle, this one directly over his heart. “I’ll carve my name so deep into your skin that you’ll never forget who you belong to.  _Me_.”

Dipper hung his head, weeping hopelessly. A hand gripped his chin, forcing him to lock eyes with the hunter. “Say it. Tell me who you belong to.”

“I..I don’t…” Dipper gasped between sobs. “You never-”

The blade of the knife rested at his throat. “You know who I am,” the hunter said, and in that moment his voice took on an ethereal echo that Dipper definitely recognized. He’d heard it within his nightmares, from time to time. “The first time we met you got the best of me. And I’ve been watching you  _ever since._  Pine Tree.”

Dipper’s teeth chattered, as if it weren’t already sweltering outside. 

“Now. Say my name.”

His voice came out in a whisper as before, now fully reverent. “…Bill.”

“Bill who?”

“…Cipher.”

The hunter ruffled his slick, sweaty hair fondly. “Good boy. Do it again.”

Dipper swallowed. “B-”

The knife at his throat slid along his collarbone, parting his skin in yet another impossibly neat line. “Not loud enough. Come on, Pine Tree. I wanna hear you _scream_.”

And then there were teeth pressed against the emblem etched over his heart, sinking just deeply enough to leave a ring of marks around the triangle, and Dipper complied with the request. He couldn’t tell whether the scream that tore itself from his throat contained a name or not. It didn’t matter. 

He felt warm breath against his ear, whispering a promise that made him wish he’d provoked the demon into just killing him earlier. “I’m gonna keep you forever so I can make you scream whenever I want. Won’t that be fun? Say yes.”

The last thing Dipper remembered before sinking into much welcome unconsciousness was the sound of his own voice, murmuring a discouragingly obedient 'Yes’. 


End file.
